


Suffering in Silence

by boleynhowards



Category: Six - Marlow/Moss
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:34:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22670104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boleynhowards/pseuds/boleynhowards
Summary: In which five of the six queens each have a certain something that sends them into discomfort. In an effort to make them feel better, the sixth queen forgets about her own self care along the way. Family is there for family.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 162





	Suffering in Silence

**Author's Note:**

> This work is very heavy with potentially upsetting themes.
> 
> TW: miscarriages, blood, uncensored slurs (sl*t, wh*re), difficulty with appearances, mentions and light descriptions of sexual assault, survivor’s guilt.

Since their reincarnation, the six former queen consorts had definitely had better lives than that of their sixteenth century counterparts. The modern era was just a lot more reformed in general, not to mention that in this life they had each other; which meant they could combat any hurdle that came their way.

That didn’t always mean new life was the most smooth sailing for any of the queens. Despite them living in a new century and having the opportunity to start fresh and anew, memories of their Tudor lives would often come trickling in when they weren’t wanted.

Sometimes they would come unexpectedly as a result of a bad day. Many times though, they would often be caused by something and then they just wouldn’t go away. 

That was why the queens tried to avoid the certain things that triggered their traumas, but even so it was inevitable that they would confront them from time to time. Whether it was a malicious person bringing it up with harmful intent or just accidentally stumbling upon the topic, all of the queens had to deal with these powerful memories making unwelcome returns occasionally.

For Catherine of Aragon, it was the mention of miscarrying that set her on edge.

She felt a sick and anxious feeling at the bottom of her stomach when something like it was brought up, her mind flashing back to the five ones of her own. Remembering the blood over her bedsheets and an angry Henry was enough to send shivers down her spine, but thinking of the five children she lost made the mother’s heart ache with guilt. 

Her divorce also weighed heavily in her mind the more she thought of her miscarriages, which made things worse for her. Catherine might have acted strong and carefree about it but it was a lie to say she didn’t lay up at night wondering what was wrong with her, wishing she could have just had that son and subsequently held onto her crown.

Well, she did have Mary. She tried to tell herself to stop getting worked up about it over that fact. Her daughter was her joy, and if she was lucky enough to have had her then she really shouldn’t have been complaining, right?

Besides, if that wasn’t enough, Catherine wasn’t the only one to miscarry. Anne had had three of her own, and she seemed fine. Catherine was just being sensitive.

And to be divorced? Two members of their party had been beheaded and another died in childbirth. Catherine got an easy out. She had no right to complain, not really.

That was why Catherine of Aragon presented herself as strong and resilient against the new world, locking up the trauma she had so the other queens wouldn’t notice and her facade would remain strong. Catherine of Aragon would rather suffer in silence.

For Anne Boleyn, words cut deeper than she let on.

It was mainly slurs that irked her. Even if they weren’t directed at her, Anne felt a discomfort inside whenever she heard another woman be called a ‘slut’, a ‘whore’ or any other degrading name for a girl with a large body count.

The words reminded Anne of her trial. Sitting in that courtroom and training her eyes forward, attempting to look strong through it all was one of the hardest things she had done, she thought. Anne was innocent of course. She was no adulterer or seductress, no slut and no whore. She could back that up too.

But her verdict was already set. The judge might as well have called her a slut and told her she was going to die for it. Anne supposed she would have preferred the frankness than to have him use polite words to get the same point across because that method gave her false hope and somehow made the rumours about her hack twice as deep.

It felt like a stupid fear to have. After all, Anne was renowned for her carefree attitude and her strong will. So why would she get so uncomfortable by words? That was all they were, after all. Then again, Anne also knew her execution came as a result of her speaking her mind, so she often wondered whether or not she could even be upset about false accusations made to her name.

Regardless of her rights to be upset or not, Anne would never let anyone know how much the insults daunted her. She was Anne Boleyn! Witty, sharp and apathetic to all opposition hurled her way. Not some sensitive little girl who bawled out at a dumb name from a stranger on the internet who had no name in the first place. She needed to keep up her careless, chaotic and slightly dainty facade to keep herself safe. Anne Boleyn would rather suffer in silence.

For Jane Seymour, a common cold was enough to send her into paranoia.

As soon as she could feel sickness going, a pit of anxiety opened up in her stomach which only added to her bad mood. All she could remember was the sickness she contracted in childbirth, the one that ultimately led to her demise.

Dying in childbirth; a pathetic way to go, Jane thought. Whenever she thought of it, she could only feel guilt for abandoning her son and only child. Leaving him alone in the Tudor court was the worst thing she could have done.

Even if people did insist there was nothing she could have done, that a lot of Tudor mothers died in childbirth (Catherine Parr included), Jane couldn’t help but beat herself up over it. That’s why she insisted on never taking a break when she got ill, often being forced to bed by Kitty in the end and giving in only because of the girl’s puppy dog eyes.

It felt irrational to be that scared of being ill. After all, it was a new era. All sorts of tablets and medications existed now, which meant she was safe. The illness that had killed her years ago could be killed in turn by a couple antibiotics. Jane just couldn’t shake off the worry though, no matter how many times she reminded herself of the medical progression since the sixteenth century.

Maybe the thing that scared her wasn’t death itself, but those who she would leave behind. Jane had already abandoned her son, she would never forgive herself for abandoning her new five children.

She knew she couldn’t be weak and fall flat against an illness. Never again could she abandon those who relied on her, whether it was her infant son or her fellow queens. Nor could she let them know how much the typical winter colds scared her, else potentially worry them too. Jane Seymour would rather suffer in silence.

For Anna of Cleves, issues with her appearance chipped at her confidence more than she showed.

One thing that hadn’t changed a lot since her past life was how society was so prevalent on appearance how people looked. Though acceptance of different physiques was definitely improved, issues still arose and were only amplified by the internet.

Being in a popular girl group, it was only natural for her and the other queens to be put in hot or not rounds or for their faces to enter competitions like the annual world’s prettiest people awards.

Though she tried to avoid it, temptation always forced Anna to click on these links, articles and results. She noticed that certain queens were fan favourites by how much more frequently they appeared on pretty lists than others. When Anna didn’t make it, or came last of the group in the ranks, she always felt her self confidence crumble a little.

She would relive the whisperings around her in the Tudor court. Of course, back then her understanding of the English language was limited, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t pick up on words like ‘ugly’ or ‘disgusting’. Anna would think about the nights she spent in front of a mirror, wondering if what the courtiers said was true. Then she would recreate those nights in the twenty first century, wondering why she couldn’t live up to beauty standards even today.

Though surely she shouldn’t complain, Anna thought. After all, she did know that in other history sources men had described her as fair looking and even gorgeous. She understood that a lot of Tudor men simply hurled appearance based insults at her because if they disagreed with Henry, they would meet a bitter end. There was that and the fact that she had also gotten away with a divorce warrant, a lump sum of money and a palace to call her own. Anna knew she was lucky.

So why would these things keep getting her down? She had no right to complain, right? Anna kept telling herself that she shouldn’t be upset about her appearance because she escaped Henry’s marriage and went on to become arguably his most successful wife - and reincarnated for a second chance at life too. 

But even if she did get it a little easier, there was something unnerving about going down in history as the ‘ugly’ one of Henry’s six wives, especially when that statement wasn’t true at all.

Not that Anna would ever complain about it though. She was meant to be a beacon of confidence and inspiration; an image of self made worth after being shot down by a horrible king. Public humiliation was meant to be a thing of the past. She couldn’t let people know about her fragile confidence, not when she had a bold reputation to uphold. Anna of Cleves would rather suffer in silence.

For Katherine Howard, it was men that got under her skin.

Such a generic fear was one that raised an eyebrow, but Kitty couldn’t help it. When she walked down the street, the men that passed her always intimidated her. Even though they didn’t even look in her direction, she always had a vision in her head that they might come onto her.

Sometimes she would spot a man who had a striking resemblance to Manox or Dereham or Henry or Culpeper. These men struck more fear than usual, because she could see their manipulative love in their eyes and imagine their hands pinning her against the wall, whispering sweet nothings into her ear.

There were also times where her gut just gave her a bad feeling about someone. His mannerisms might have been a little off putting or maybe Kitty was just having a bad day, but every once in a while she would make up an excuse to steer clearly away from a male interviewer or journalist because she didn’t like the energy he gave off.

Kitty tried to swallow this fear down. She knew that not all men were like those she had to encounter in her past life, but even so the anxieties welled up whenever she passed one or looked at one.

It was in the past, she told herself. Laws were in place now that could protect her as well as the five other queens who would do anything for her. So why was she so worried? Maybe it was because of the news stories she had accidentally found online, where victims’ cases went futile as the accused escaped charges. They reminded her too much of her own situation, about how she was painted as an adulteress and was beheaded for being a victim.

Why should she be afraid? Kitty instructed herself to stop with this ridiculous fear, told herself that she was being too judgemental and turning into a bad person. That the majority of the men she passed would never think of hurting her, that they didn’t even acknowledge her as they got on with their own days and business. She was being stupid, really.

So Kitty never told anyone about the specifics of her fear. Everyone already knew she had some sort of anxiety surrounding what had happened to her, but no one knew the extent of it. And she didn’t intend them to know. Kitty didn’t want to be seen as stupid or even more like a child than she was already perceived. That and she really did think she was being stupid, and that she had no right to be so scared of quite literally half the human population. She couldn’t let people know about this. Katherine Howard would rather suffer in silence.

Catherine Parr was observant.

When the topic of miscarrying came up on one of the daytime talk shows, Cathy couldn’t help but notice how quickly Catherine turned off the TV. She had mumbled an excuse about wasting power when no one was watching it, but Cathy could see through that.

When the queens overheard other people talking badly about another person and slurs were brought into the conversation, Cathy couldn’t help but notice how Anne picked up her pace to get away from there. The others would pin it on her sudden bursts of energy, but Cathy could see through that.

When winter came around and typical flus and common colds became more prominent, Cathy couldn’t help but notice how Jane grew much more cautious, slightly jumpy and constantly working as if to prove something. She had shrugged it off to the others as seasonal mood change, but Cathy could see through that.

When appearance based questions appeared in interviews, Cathy couldn’t help but notice how Anna tensed up and how her playful attitude she presented turned almost nervous. Anna would turn back to normal as soon as the subject was over as if she was fine and nothing had happened, but with the quick glances in the car mirror she made on the way home, Cathy could see through that.

When the queens were out together, walking the streets, Cathy couldn’t help but notice how Kitty would sink into the side of Anne or Jane whenever they passed a man. She would play it off as wanting to give her cousin or mother affection, but Cathy could see through that.

Catherine Parr knew the others were suffering in silence. Regardless of how much they tried to paint it in a different colour, Cathy could see right through every facade and into the visage of a broken woman underneath. So she tried to be there for everyone.

For hours on end Cathy would listen to Catherine gush about her daughter, Mary. She would listen intently to every story, hear about all the time the mother and daughter spent together until they were forcefully torn apart. Eventually, Catherine opened up to Cathy about the five miscarriages, suddenly tearing up one session and being unable to stop herself. It was quick for Cathy to pull her into a warm embrace, to reassure her that there was nothing wrong with her and that she was a perfect mother to Mary and would have been to them too. Catherine of Aragon had stopped suffering in silence.

A different approach was needed for Anne. Cathy knew she wouldn’t just randomly open up like Catherine had, which led to her puzzling over what she would do for some time. It turned out she didn’t need to do that, because the opportunity presented itself unexpectedly one night. Not being a regular sleeper, it was easy for Cathy to hear the muffled sobs coming from Anne’s room deep into the night. When she went in to check on her, she hated to see someone who was meant to be so carefree looking so terrified and trapped in a nightmare. Cathy shook her awake gently, and then spent the next hours listening to Anne convince her in whimpers that she wasn’t an adulterer nor a seductress. It took a finger to the lips to get her to stop rambling, and then Cathy gave Anne what she had never been given in her Tudor life; belief in Anne’s turn of events. Anne Boleyn had stopped suffering in silence.

To support the supportive friend was a new concept but Cathy was determined to cure the worries of Jane. Winter was rolling around which meant with it would come some sort of influenza or bug. A mild one, Cathy knew, but one that would still scare Jane. So when she noticed how Jane started to hold in a cough or how her skin began to pale with clear signs of sickness, she knew she had to act. It started as a small conversation then turned a little more personal when Cathy reminded Jane of how she died after her marriage to Henry; childbirth. Though it was a twisted connection, it was still a connection - and surprisingly it seemed to help a lot with comforting Jane. For the first time, Jane opened up about her fears whenever she began to contract the symptoms of a typical cold. Something else happened for the first time that day too; Jane being coaxed into bed by means other than Kitty’s pleading eyes - a means more consenting and calm. Jane Seymour had stopped suffering in silence.

For a while, Cathy couldn’t find an opportunity to support Anna. She hid things so well that one just never presented itself, and most topics of appearance sprung up only in interviews which meant by the time the interview ended it was too late to bring it up. This problem continued until one day Anne and Kitty were having a debate about characters in a show they both watched together. Specifically, the looks of characters after Kitty accused Anne of having a crush on a work of fiction. Anna had left the room almost instantly after that topic broke out, and Cathy seized the opportunity by being quick to follow. Their conversation began with them both staring into the mirror, Cathy firing reassurances of her outer and inner beauty at her and even using historical resources to back herself up, typical of the bookish woman. When she had finally cracked a smile of real confidence on Anna’s face, Cathy couldn’t help but smile back warmly before the conversation topic turned to them discussing Henry’s own substandard looks. Laughing for the rest of the evening was easy for them both after that. Anna of Cleves had stopped suffering in silence.

Walking down the street one day, Cathy was the first to spot a group of men walking along too. Whilst the sight was undaunting to her, she knew that for Kitty it was a different story. Travelling her eyes to the girl in question, she could see the fear stiffen her posture instantly. Then she looked at Jane, who was distracted by Anne trying to convince her to let her climb the wall and walk atop it instead. Shortly, Kitty had no one’s body to hide in as the group of men passed. So, Cathy quickly sped forward and grabbed Kitty’s hand, pulling her inward and walking with her until they passed the group. As soon as they passed, she let go of Kitty, but was surprised when the younger seemed to want to hold on and remade contact. When they got home again from their outing, Cathy pulled Kitty aside to some privacy and finally Kitty opened up about her fear. Cathy wiped her tears away and told her how brave she was and how valid she was, regardless of how obscene she thought that fear was. It was okay. Kitty had a new protector in the public from  
then, often clinging to Cathy when they encountered a man she didn’t like the look of. That was one thing, but with the fear finally off her chest, Kitty could begin to unpack it and work against it. Katherine Howard had stopped suffering in silence.

Helping her fellow queens made Cathy’s heart swell with pride and happiness with every single step that they took. But there was always shadow, and that came in the form of what could only be described as survivor’s guilt.

Listening to the cruel details of each queen’s stories was heartbreaking. Hearing about the malicious anger in Henry’s voice after a miscarriage and the way Mary was ripped from Catherine’s arms was mortifying. The description of a stone cold court jury and a sword blade pressed against Anne’s neck to match it was terrible. Imagining how useless Jane must have felt due to dying after giving Henry the only thing he wanted was an uncomfortable experience. No history book could sum up properly the nights Henry would lay on top of Anna, trying to consummate their marriage through sex and then Anna getting the blame for the failure. Then there was hearing what little Kitty could get out about her experiences with Manox, Dereham, Henry and Culpeper, and in those conversations Cathy had never wanted to hurt a man more.

All these horrible things had happened to these five women that Cathy cared so much about, and all she could feel was guilt. Cathy had escaped Henry and evaded death. Luck was on her side as she avoided execution and divorce due to Henry relying on her with old age. Why was she so lucky? What did she do that the other queens didn’t? The answer was nothing. She was no different, surely she didn’t deserve different treatment.

And adding to their burdens was something Cathy couldn’t do. They had all suffered enough, so much more than she could ever imagine. Cathy could shoulder this guilt on her own and manage to be there for the others, she was sure. Catherine Parr would rather suffer in silence.

Though one thing Cathy had miscalculated was how the other queens were going to be there for her too. Which meant that as soon as she started acting self depreciating, stressed and like she was holding everything in, five queens were quick to pick up on it.

That meant one thing; Catherine Parr wouldn’t suffer in silence. She did have a whole family to fall back on, after all.


End file.
